THE HIT

A Saturday morning, and we took our girls to the kiddies taekwondo club at Brickhall School run by the Chika Chukwumerije Sports Foundation (CCSF). So, I sat in a corner and watched children taking turns at the kicking pad, with Master Chika rewarding each badly executed kick with a slight tap on the head. It brought back memories, I swear… But this is not what I am here to talk about.  

He was preparing them for his CCSF Taekwondo Prix Series II. It’s a competition he holds every Quarter to support the development of taekwondo at the grassroots. Like we used to have when we were young, and constantly battling for trophies at the Lagos Country Club, and Ikoyi Club, and National Stadium, followed everywhere by my father and his ubiquitous video recorder… But this is not what I am here to talk about.

An integral part of prepping for a competition is sparring. So, he suited these kids up in fight gear – shin guards, hand guards, body guards, head guards – and paired them up for mock fights. My daughter had never been in a fight before. But got paired with a girl a year younger than her, shorter than her, not nearly as strong as her, who fell to the ground with the first push kick… But this is not what I am here to talk about.

Three rounds of this and my daughter came out of the ring beaming, ‘Daddy, I won!’ I nodded at her, but soon as she was gone, turned to my brother and said, ‘That was not a fight. Give her a fight.’ So, he put her in the ring again, this time with a girl a year older than her, taller than her, and a little more experienced. And I sat up attentively now. Yes. My daughter likes her push kick, so charged at her opponent right out of the gate. But instead of falling down, the girl staggered back, then responded with a kick of her own. It hit my little girl hard.

Not hard, physically. But mentally. This, I could see on her face, the SHOCK at the unnerving realization that a challenge could still be standing there even after she had unleashed her ALL at it, and not only standing there but with life enough to kick her back. I call it, ‘The Hit’. And I have experienced it many times myself, that moment when someone kicks you back in a way that shatters every pre-conceived opinion you had of them, and how a fight with them would go. Yes, it’s the moment you realize you’re in over your head or, putting it a bit more philosophically, in deep shit.

Yes. People react to this moment differently. Some people, I swear, are made of steel. It’s in their genes. And I saw a little boy that morning that reminded me of some of my people back in the day. Because when his much larger, bigger and stronger opponent kicked him hard, he smiled a smile that could only have been induced by a surge in adrenaline. And I shook my head at the wonders of genetic kalo-kalo, because I knew that this one – if no one teaches him to temper bravery with wisdom – will one day try, indeed, to do exactly what Mohammed Ali said, that is ‘wrestle with an alligator, tussle with a whale, handcuff lightning and throw thunder in jail’. True.

But my little girl, ah, my little girl…her shock gave way to fear, and her fear gave way to tears… But we cheered her on from the side-line, so she wept but kicked her way to the end of a fight she lost. So, I sat her on my knees and told her, ‘Don’t cry. We win some, we lose some. That is how it is.’ But in my mind I thought, ‘This is great! This is great! We shall come again tomorrow!!’ Because, do not be deceived, our destinies lie, always, outside our comfort zones. Yes. This is what I am here to talk about.

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LOVE HURTS

Sometimes, people disappear. This is true. For Love is not always a duet with two feeding off each other. No. Sometimes, the house is standing only because you’re carrying it. I tell you, it’s hard to tell how long this must continue before it becomes abuse. All I know is, there are seasons in everyone’s life when they have enough strength only for themselves. And if you are the one who has to share this season with them, ah, you will not find it easy at all.

But, once, I was a teenager. And slammed the door in my mother’s face. When I opened it, she was there. So I learned, there is that day on which our Love must be unconditional. Not because you massaged my feet, or will bring me home a box of chocolates. I’ve watched it on Discovery channel. How, within minutes of being born, a baby deer is nudged to its feet. But it takes a bit longer for the children of men to learn this lesson, that the World does not revolve around their needs. In the interim, we clean their bums and swaddle them, feed and protect them, knowing they may walk away, one day, in anger or irritation, at the things we become in our old age.

But, once, I was a child. And woke up to the whispered sounds of my father standing by the door, praying for me; gently tiptoeing away when he was done.  And I lay there the rest of the night wondering - how many times does he do this? Not an easy lesson, this one, how Love must always do more than it can ever boast of, or be given credit for. But, some days, they will NEED you, even when they are asleep and do not know it. On days like that you will have to find something more motivating than your natural desire for a standing ovation to reach out. So, let me tell you this.

Look into the eyes of those you love, and read what lies therein. For, I tell you, there are days when those eyes will beg you not to walk away, not to abandon me now in a darkness so deep I cannot talk about it. You will see them grow bleak with tears, but every time you ask, I will stubbornly say, ‘Nothing. I am fine. Leave me the hell alone!’ At this moment, I beg you, listen to your own heart, quieten the static that is always our ego when the love we offer is flung back in our faces. Yes. And if in that still small place where our inner truth resides, you hear a voice – the dependable voice of your unerring intuition – and it says to you, ‘Stay’. Please…stay.

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